This is not a Barnaby mystery, for obvious reasons, obvious once you get into the story – and after you've read it. I read it mainly to see what other rabbits Ms Graham could pull out of her writers hat. It begins badly: "Three greedy people were sitting around a table beneath a brilliantly striped umbrella on the terrace of a moated grange..." Not being a fan of greedy people this struck the wrong note. However she continues: "Well, to be more precise, one was a very greedy person, one (present only in spirit) was a mildly greedy person and the last, an extremely pretty girl with dark curly hair, was hardly greedy at all."
Fortunately it is through the eyes of the hardly greedy girl, Laurie, that we mostly see the world. Her brother Simon is extremely greedy and otherwise mostly nasty, well spoken and with fine manners and clothes and a pleasing aspect. A disparate group of eccentrics are invited to a wonderful country manor to enjoy a week-end of fine food and wine, beautiful surroundings and a game of murder. Also present are a staff of butler and maid, hired for the occasion. Invited is a misnomer as the "guests" pay £250 a head for the adventure.
After the introductions are made the reader – i.e. me – quickened his pace as the pace of the story, slow to begin with, crept on. Intrigue among the guests, banter and condescension; where's the murder? I wondered. It came late but somehow unexpected and we then raced on toward the conclusion(s).
Laurie is a character to like and enjoy, Simon a character to dislike and enjoy. The guests and staff all fit into this spectrum somewhere. The denouement was satisfying, though I was left wondering: what happened afterwards? Ms Graham, probably wisely, leaves this to the reader's imagination.
The thing that kept the story alive for me was the comedy. A few quotations:
The temporary maid: "Mrs Bennet was a tall streak of unrelieved gloom. Her coat and skirt were grey, her lisle stockings were grey and her limp wooly the colour of mouse droppings. Her feet were encased in the sort of shoes which expanded to accommodate barnacles and were of glacé kid. A hat, charmingly styled after the manner of a German helmet, was rammed upon her head. Her eyes, the colour of dirty grey ice, seemed huge behind pebbly glasses." (p. 28)
In contrast we have "Mother" the aged matriarch of the Gibbs "guests":
"...panting like a grampus, rested a very short, very wide old lady. Her lack of stature was so marked that she seemed to be squatting rather than standing and this, coupled with a dark, mottled, rather warty complexion and a squinny eye gave her the look of a baffled toad. She was dressed all in black apart from her hat which was a festive Carmen Miranda number of emerald felt, topped by a mound of twinkling glass fruit." (p. 42-3)
Simon is surprised by the family his advertisement has produced:
"Simon's reply was courteous but slightly distant. He had still not fully recovered from his first sight of Gibbs, Gibbs and Gibbs. How on earth people of that stamp came to be reading The Times was quite beyond his comprehension. Probably wrapped around their chips..."
Laurie has discovered that one of the "guests" has a firearm.
Simon said: "...'people are allowed to own guns, you know. As long as they have a licence.'
'But why on earth would any respectable person bring it to a country house party?'
'Probably going on somewhere.'
'Going on somewhere? With a gun? Where, for heaven's sake?'
'How should I know? Poachers' Convention. God-fathers' Get-together. Conservative Party Dinner Dance.' (p. 118)
The class-conscious Mrs Saville discusses the Gibbs' with her daughter:
Rosemary said: "...'I'm sure they're not dishonest, Mummy. Just... colourful.'
'Nonsense. People of that ilk have no respect for the property of others. And did you see that disgusting thing he had around his neck?' she went on, leaping as nimbly from the theoretical to the concrete as might the Spanish ibex. 'A man who wears a tie that lights up in the dark is a man whose depravity knows no bounds.' (p. 126)
The "guest" Martin, who travels in glass-houses admires Laurie's work in the garden:
"The herb wheel he found especially appealing. He admired the greenhouse, very sensibly semi-whitewashed against the heat (the staff here obviously knew their stuff), and, with the zealous curiosity of the expert, was driven to have a peep inside.
He realized it was occupied as he went up the path and heard something fall. This realization was compounded by the fact that, as he stooped to enter, someone hit him a terrific blow across the head." (p. 235)
I doubt this qualifies as a classic English mystery as we have no crime for most of the book and though there are plenty of red herrings there are not many clues. Murder at Madingley Grange is still a fun read.